Shriek In The Night
by Mr Sinister
Summary: More Web-Slinger X action. Shriek escapes from Ravencroft, and decides to pay her old friend Spider-Man a visit...
1. From A Whisper To A Scream

**_"Shriek in the Night" _Part 1 **'From A Whisper to A Scream'

Peter Parker was glad to be back in the hustle and bustle of the Bugle's busy newsroom, with people running here and there clutching bundles of paper and fistfuls of computer disks, which doubtlessly contained juicy pieces of information on various high society figures or the type of people who didn't want their faces in the papers at all.

_Like the Kingpin,_ Peter thought sourly. _I wish I could figure out what the ol' grease bucket is planning - apart from his usual night-time raids on __Kentucky__ Fried Chicken. That guy must clean them out of spicy wings every week..._ Sighing, he looked at the packet of photographs in his hand - the pictures were of a recent robbery that he had had the good fortune to catch on film - so far, so routine, as far as Peter had been concerned. The only difference was, the spandex involved wasn't red and blue. The guy who had stopped the robbery was Cardiac. Jonah would probably go off on a routine little tangent about how the superhero community was a "blight on our fair city" and how if it were up to him, they'd all be run off a cliff and/or boiled in their own tights. Peter wondered, briefly, what Jonah would do if he were to come face to masked face with Captain America - would he congratulate the man on being a living legend, or would he, as Peter rather suspected would be the case, jab a finger in the guy's face and tell him he was responsible for every single act of costumed violence since time immemorial? One thing was for sure - Peter would definitely pay to see that meeting. He knocked on the door to Jonah's office, and heard what he supposed was a grunt of acknowledgement on the other side, which he took to mean he was to come in. He turned the knob on the door, to be greeted by the slightly comical sight of J. Jonah Jameson trying to balance a phone call, a cigar, and a typewriter all at the same time.

"What do you want, Parker?" he growled in a clipped, annoyed tone. Then, to the person on the other end of the line, who Peter decided had to be Jonah's wife Marla, he said "No, I'm not thrilled about that letter, sweetheart, but what do you expect me to do about it? Write an editorial and hope it'll make it go away? I'm sure you're thrilled, you have every reason to be, but... look, we'll discuss it later. Parker's in my office now." He hung up the phone and muttered "Ah... the visit from Hell..." Then, he sat back into his leather chair and rubbed at his eyes with a forefinger and thumb, before looking up at Peter with a hawkish expression on his face. "You tell anyone I said the word 'sweetheart' and I'll skin you alive, Parker. Now what do you want?"

"You know, Jonah," Peter ventured, "having your mother-in-law over isn't the worst thing that can happen to you." Apparently Peter's sense of intuition was accurate, as Jonah gave him a withering glare and took a comforting pull on his cigar before blowing out a long stream of grey smoke. 

"Don't push it, Parker," he said shortly. "You don't know my wife's mother. Now what do you have?"

"Some pictures -" Peter began. Jonah cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Don't tell me," he said shortly. "They're of Spider-Man, right? Just what I need to cheer me up, that wall-crawling weasel showing his face again. You really have no sense of tact, do you, Parker?" Peter couldn't suppress a grin at that, and set the packet of photos down on the desk. 

"Actually, Jonah, he doesn't appear once. This guy is someone different." He waited for Jonah's face to light up, and he watched with delight as Jonah eagerly drew the pictures out of the packet. "See? That's Cardiac. He hasn't been seen in years, and suddenly he's back. You think there's something up?"

"Could be, Parker," Jonah said thoughtfully. "Could be. But I don't have the time to worry about that right now. I wish I did..." Then, pulling out his checkbook, he wrote off a generous-by-his-standards check for the pictures. "That's for the pictures, and for getting out of my sight," he said shortly. "I don't need you making my staff distracted right now. Do I make myself clear?"

Peter grinned. "Yes sir, Mr. Jameson." Jonah scowled, and waved him away without another word.

As he was leaving JJJ's office, Peter saw Robbie walking towards him, apparently lost in thought as well as the thick file he held in his hands. "Hey, Robbie," he said, and watched the older man snap out of the trance he had been in.

"Hello, Peter," Robbie said. "Are you okay?" 

"Sure," Peter replied. "But what's up with Jonah? He looks like he's just swallowed some hot coals."

Robbie's grin was broad, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. "I guess he has, in a way. I guess Marla's family is visiting, he always get like that when they visit. So he's taking out his frustrations on us."

"And that's different to usual... how, exactly?" Peter laughed.

"Well, this time there's the small fact that he's got to get on with people he hates, and who hate him, for more than either hours a day." Robbie paused, and raised a greying eyebrow in speculative thought. "Actually, you're right. There is no difference." He slapped Peter on the shoulder. "You better get back to your wife, Peter - she'll be wanting you to cook her dinner on that kind of money." He gestured towards the check that Jonah had pressed into Peter's hand, and Peter held it up, glancing at it dismissively.

"On this kind of money? She'll get pasta and like it. That's if we want to keep our heating and fancy, new-fangled electric lighting, of course." He snorted with laughter. "See you, Robbie. Take care of yourself."

"You too, Peter. Tell Mary Jane we all send our love, okay?"

"Will do, Robbie."

Bidding Robbie goodbye, Peter slipped out of the offices and found his way to the top of the building via a staircase, leaping up it in long, loose bounces while he switched from his street clothes to his Spidey costume. He found the exit to the roof of the building and webbed up his jacket, shirt and other items of clothing in a small web-bundle, which he fixed to his back with a thin strap of webbing. _Time to visit an old friend..._

* * *

"So how's he coming along, Doc?" 

Doctor Kafka stroked her chin and tapped a pencil thoughtfully against her clipboard before she said "He's doing really well, Spider-Man - he's remembered his name, for one thing, and he's started to get flashes of childhood memories: Christmases, New Years', that kind of thing. He's also remembered Osborn Industries, and his son - Harry, wasn't it?"

Spider-Man took a deep breath before answering. "Yeah... yeah, that was his name. He... hasn't remembered anything about..."

"No," Ashley replied. "No Goblin... yet. I'll let you know if it does happen, though." She paused. "You know, it's odd - a few days ago he wasn't remembering a thing, but now... more and more memories are surfacing every day. I don't know what happened, but something must have tripped a switch in his head. I hope this is going to be the end of the Goblin just as much as you, Spider-Man, but... be prepared, all right?"

Spider-Man hung his head for a moment, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. "Yeah," he said dejectedly. "I'll do that. Thanks, Doc. I'll... be in touch." Then he moved towards the door of the observation booth and left, silently. John Jameson, who had been quietly standing to one side of the conversation, attending to various security monitors, looked around at his partner in more than just the running of the asylum.

"You really think we can stop Osborn from becoming the Green Goblin again?" he asked, his brows creasing worriedly. Dr. Kafka scratched at the bridge of her nose, and shrugged hopelessly.

"I don't know, John. I hope so. I really hope so. Especially since the two of us are skating on such thin ice after what happened with the Chameleon. We'll just have to play this by ear and keep our fingers crossed that something bad doesn't happen..."

* * *

Peter swung towards his home in Forest Hills, the sky darkening enough that his costume didn't stand out too much. He somersaulted through the air and came to rest on the roof of the house, before crawling down towards the back door. His spider-sense wasn't warning him of any unwelcome eyes, so he dropped down to ground level, unlocked the back door with the key he'd kept in one of the pockets of the clothes webbed up on his back, and slipped inside, taking his mask off at the same time. _MJ won't be expecting this,_ he thought to himself mischievously. He crept through the corridor, keeping his steps as quiet as he could, avoiding every loose board and potentially-noisy furniture item that was in his way, until he reached the door to the lounge. Preparing to burst through it, a loud "Surprise!" ready to break free from his lips, his heart sank when he heard MJ laughing and talking to somebody. His spider-sense wasn't going off, so they weren't there in person, but still... he hated having jokes - even ones in questionable taste such as this one - go down the pan needlessly. After the campaign of terror he and Uncle Ben had waged against one another when he'd been younger, every missed opportunity was really quite disappointing.

_I wonder how MJ would react to blackface soap? _he wondered silently. 

Putting that thought behind him for the moment, he opened the door quietly and saw MJ lying back on the couch. She waved to him, got up, and bounced over to kiss him hello before resuming her phone conversation. "No, Jill, it's just Peter. He works long hours and he's only just got back. I'm lucky to see him most days, you know. Makes me feel like renting out a Chippendales video to get my nightly dose of studly goodness." She winked at Peter, who had pursed his lips and folded his arms, one eyebrow raised silently. He pointed upstairs and indicated that he was going to take a shower, since his costume was sweaty and damp, and he needed to ease some lingering tension out of his limbs. MJ nodded and waved him away, and then resumed her conversation on the phone. "Anyway, as I was saying - I want this expo to really show the world - or just New Jersey, whichever - that my designs are something to sit up and take notice of. I want this to be my moment, you know? I have a talent and I want to make a living out of it. Is that so bad?"

Jill was silent for a moment and then said "Of course not, MJ - I hope it all goes well for you. You know I'd buy your stuff, so it must be great!"

MJ made a face. "Yeah, I know that, Jill, but one customer doesn't make me Vivienne Westwood. I want everyone to know about me. Thanks for the good wishes, though - I appreciate it."

"No problem," Jill replied. "Look, I need to get off the phone - Dad wants to make a phone call. It looks important, so maybe you'd like to meet up for coffee sometime this week?"

"Sure - how about Wednesday?" MJ suggested. "I don't have anything on my social calendar then - what about you?" 

"Nope, I'm still living the lonely life of a single girl," Jill said wistfully. "See you Wednesday, then - your place or mine?"

"Mine, I think. I need the company. I'll see you then, Jill." MJ pressed the hang-up button on the phone's handset and pushed the "on" button on the TV remote. She felt predisposed towards some brain-melting TV this evening, and there seemed to be plenty of it to choose from. Even the episode of "The Simpsons" was one she'd seen a million times before - and there was only so many times the sight of Homer Simpson in a clown outfit could make her laugh really loudly. 

Just then Peter popped his head around the doorframe and said excitedly "MJ, we have to watch this." He pointed to a page in the TV guide he held in his hand, to a movie called _Shriek If You Know What I Did Last Summer._ This time, it was MJ's turn to be skeptical.

"Oh, come on, Peter - don't you think this whole 'ironic' thing has gone a little too far? That guy should stick to making _Dawson's Creek_ - at least I can watch that and not laugh myself stupid at how dumb the whole thing is."

"MJ, please - this is different. And it beats reruns, right?" Peter used the secret weapon in his arsenal - his ability to apparently make his eyes grow to twice their normal size so that he looked even more like a hard-done-by little boy than usual - and MJ sighed in defeat.

"Oh, all right, Peter. You find the channel and I'll go make us some popcorn, okay?" Peter almost squealed with delight and gave MJ a grateful kiss. 

"Thanks, MJ. You're the best." 

MJ grinned. "And don't you forget it, tiger."

* * *

_"You're going to pay for what you did last summer, girl..."_

The TV crackled in the dark, ill-lit office. Dr. Kafka had switched it on in desperation to try and keep herself awake. Mountains of paperwork had a way of lulling her to sleep faster than a few rounds of "Rock-a-bye baby". The movie stank, but at least it was helping her to keep her eyes open - if only because she occasionally shrieked at the screen in contempt at the bad acting and ludicrous plot - what there was of it, in between the increasingly bloody killings.

Just then, the internal intercom buzzed, so Ashley switched the TV off and pressed the button on her desk. "Go ahead," she said quietly.

"It's Frances Barrison," said a staid voice on the other end of the line. "Doctor, she's being... difficult. She keeps telling us not to take her baby away from her, and she won't listen to reason. We need to get that antidote for the Carrion Virus soon."

Dr Kafka rolled her eyes. _If it's not one thing, it's another..._ "I'm on my way," she said. "Keep her busy until I can get there, all right?"

* * *

"No! I won't let you take her away from me!" Frances Barrison - the villainess also known as Shriek - shouted at the guards and doctors. "She's my baby! You can't have her!"

"No, Frances - we don't want to do that. We just want to help both of you," Dr. Kafka said softly. "I mean that. We want the best for both of you, but you have to let us help you, all right. Now just let the guardsmen help you back into bed and we can all sort this out in the morning, all right?"

Shriek's eyes narrowed, fixing the Doctor with a steely glare. "No. I _know_ you, Assssshhhley. I know what you want to do to me. You want to slice my head open and take my brains out so you can study what makes us crazy people crazy, don't you?"

"No, Frances, that's not true. I want to help you get better -"

"Liar!" Shriek screamed. "You don't want that at all! You want to take my child from me and you want to tie me up and cut me! You're just like my father! Leave me alone!"

Dr. Kafka was just about to reply when she heard the swish of an automatic door at the other end of the corridor, and she saw John Jameson and two Guardsmen walking towards her. Dr. Kafka also could have sworn she saw a black cat following behind the three men, but she put that down to lack of sleep and the poor lighting in the corridor. "John!" she exclaimed. "See if you can calm her down - she always seemed to respond to you better." John swallowed nervously, and stepped up to the door of the cell, opening it slightly so that he could get a better view of Shriek.

"Hello, Frances," he said quietly.

"Hiya, John-john," Shriek cooed seductively, waving coyly to John as she did so. Her keen eyes saw that the door was open just a little too much for it to fully close before she could get to it, and she decided to use that to her advantage. "Miss me?"

John nodded, aware that if he didn't go along with her the moment might be lost. "Of course I missed you, Frances. Now, are you going to be a good girl for me and let my men put some restraints on you - we just want to move you somewhere where we can talk to you properly, all right?"

"All right, John-john," Shriek whispered. "But just because it's you..." John motioned the two armored Guardsmen to move forward into Shriek's cell and cuff her. Too late, John noticed that they had attached the cuffs to her wrists instead of her arms. Her hands slapped together and the resultant blast incinerated both men. A subsequent blast sliced through the group of doctors and nurses, causing them to scatter, and allowing Shriek to shatter a nearby window and escape. "Could have been magic, John-john..." was the last thing John Jameson heard before the reality that Shriek had escaped sank in with a sickening crunch. His hand went to his belt where a radio hung by some leather straps. 

Bringing it to his lips, he said "Give me all available Guardsmen. We have an escapee. Repeat, we have an escapee..."

* * *

Peter stuffed the last mouthful of popcorn into his mouth, and MJ gave him an evil look. "You finished this batch, Peter. That means you have to go and make the next one - I'm not doing it twice!"

Peter shrugged. "Okay... but don't expect me to peel you some grapes while I'm out there." MJ threw a cushion at him and he retreated to the kitchen before it hit his right in the stomach. Abruptly, he heard a hideous shrieking sound, which really made a shudder run down his spine. He dismissed it as the best special effect in the movie's otherwise small FX budget and set the popcorn into the microwave without a second thought.

* * *

The same shrieking sound ripped through the air of Ravencroft, sending yet another shiver through Ashley Kafka's body. John twitched slightly, his trigger finger spasming. "I guess we can safely say Frances has left the building."

"I called in some search personnel, John - they should be here as soon as possible. Once they do arrive, we'll have to go looking for Frances before anything can go drastically wrong. She's a very disturbed young woman, and if someone were to say something to upset her..." She didn't finish the sentence, since both she and John knew exactly what would happen then. John took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. 

"Ashley... are we shooting to kill here?" Dr. Kafka glared at him.

"How dare you ask me that?" she snapped. "Of course we're not. Not unless we have no choice, and I don't want to admit that until every last avenue has been explored. Is that clear?"

John nodded. "Crystal."

Suddenly, and to the surprise of both Dr Kafka and Jameson, the black cat that Ashley had thought she had seen earlier leapt up onto the table top where they were sat, purring and rubbing itself against John. He tried to shoo it away, but it was extremely persistent, only moving when he swatted it with a hand. It hissed and scratched him across the face, slicing three neat wounds into his cheek, causing him to curse loudly. The cat leapt off the table and ran out of the room, and John shook his head.

"Well, that was... different," he said.

"Absolutely," Dr Kafka agreed. "But we can't worry about that now - I'll give you a tetanus jab when we come back."

John nodded in agreement and the two of them left the room to go in search of their missing patient.

* * *

When they'd left, Maguire ran out of the Asylum and into the waiting arms of Mad Jack. "Good girl," he crooned softly. "Good girl..."

* * *


	2. Deadly Lullabies

**_"Shriek in the Night" _Part 2 **'Deadly Lullabies'

_"Rock-a-bye Baby,_

_Paint the town red,_

_When Shrieky calls,_

_They'll all fall down dead._

_When Shrieky breaks,_

_Ol' Spidey'll call,_

_And down will come Shrieky,_

_Baby and all."_

Shriek laughed softly and rubbed her flat, decidedly un-pregnant stomach gently. "There now. Wasn't that lovely? I'll sing that for you whenever you want me to. We'll never get separated, sweetie. Nobody's going to take you away from me. Not anybody. Not even Spider-Man. You and me, honey - we'll always be together. Mommy and baby, always. I'll never let them take you away. I don't care how many people I have to kill." She smiled softly, a pleasant feeling wafting over her, and she looked up at the night sky from the rooftop she'd occupied since the early evening. The idea was a nice one, she decided. "You'll always be my baby. Mommy's going to teach you so much... you're going to have so much _fun!"_

* * *

Peter Parker tossed and turned in his bed, restlessly looking at the clock every five minutes - or so it seemed. This wasn't usual for him - it was before midnight and he was actually at home. MJ was asleep beside him, and he supposed he ought to count that as a blessing. After all, he didn't often get to watch her go to sleep. Usually, she was fast asleep whenever he got in, and he never got to say goodnight. But... it still felt a little odd, not being outside at this time of night. After all, this was usually his best time for foiling some nefarious mugging, street hustle or carjacking. 

_Although when you think of it like that, _he pondered with a wry smile on his face,_ maybe it's best if I stay home after all._

MJ stirred next to him suddenly. "Go webslinging, darling, if it'll make you feel better. If it'll tire you out maybe we could both get some sleep for once." Peter kissed her on the cheek affectionately, and stroked her hair with his left hand.

"You mean that?" he asked. "You actually _want_ me to go risk my life just to go find some petty criminals or some new nut in a costume?"

"If it gets me some peace and quiet, sure," MJ replied tiredly. "And if I get to have all of the duvet, then even better. Besides, you don't usually rustle up this much energy unless you want to go webslinging or do some snuggling. And I'm too tired to snuggle right now, _capice_?"

Peter laughed. "Oh, come one, honey, wouldn't you rather do that than think of me risking my life against hordes of men with big guns and attitude problems the size of Manhattan Island?"

"Don't push it, Tiger, or I might just have to prove you right." MJ gestured towards the window. "Go on. Maybe we can spend the morning in bed, or something. If I get some sleep, I can concentrate more in the morning, right?" She kissed Peter enticingly on the lips, and grinned. "And you know what happens when I concentrate."

"Oh yeah." Peter could feel a flush coming to his face despite himself. "So... you'll wear the French maid's outfit, then?" he countered mischievously.

MJ stuck her tongue out at him. "In your dreams, Peter." Then she stopped, and looked like she was reconsidering. "No. Wait. It probably _is_ in your dreams. Forget I said anything, then." She pointed to the window. "Get going, Spider-Man. There's evil to fight and damsels to save out there. Don't want to disappoint them, do you?"

"I guess not." Peter sprang nimbly out of bed and found a clean Spider-costume on the rack of his closet, and then slipped into it with practised ease, slipping the mask over his head, to just above his mouth. Moving over to the bed again, he kissed MJ gently, and whispered "See you in the morning."

MJ smiled seductively. "You bet. Don't get too tired, stud."

"Gotcha, MJ," Peter replied. "I love you."

"Love you too, Peter," MJ said softly. Her face took on a more pensive expression as she continued "Take care, okay?" Peter smiled reassuringly, and stroked his wife's face gently with his gloved fingertips.

"I will. Sleep well, honey."

Moving away from the bed again, Peter approached the window sill and slipped it up enough for him to crawl out and squirt a thick strand of webbing towards the highest vantage point within his webshooters' range, and swung away from the house, towards the bright, shining lights of Manhattan Island, lights that illuminated up the night sky like torches.

* * *

John Jameson racked the slide on his Beretta and felt a hollow-point round click satisfyingly into place. He didn't want to have to use it (Ashley chewed him out for even carrying lethal ammunition, and he didn't like making her angry), but if it came down to a choice between his life and the life of a whacked-out crazy with a mad-on for human life, he knew which option he'd pick. He clicked on his torch and disembarked from the Ravencroft van, along with the Doctor herself, and about thirty (or so it seemed) Ravencroft security men, all decked out in Stark Industries' finest Guardsman armour. Jonn envied them. He'd always wanted to be like Iron Man, and now they were getting the chance while he had to rely on a fifteen-round magazine and his own reflexes.

He reflected on that for a moment. On the other hand, some might have said that he had the better end of the deal, after all. If he couldn't rely on himself, he didn't deserve to be head of security at Ravencroft at all. 

Suddenly, he heard a hollow thump from behind him, and he spun, automatically cocking the hammer of his pistol and raising it to a suitable angle. His heart hammering in his chest, he saw that what he had thought was Shriek was simply Spider-Man. He let out a relieved breath, while Spidey relaxed his own posture.

"Geez, John, I know it's late, but I was only trying to help," he said in such a way as to make John feel as guilty as possible. "So what's up? Bugs Bunny escape that nice padded cell you reserved for him, or what?"

"It's Shriek," John replied dejectedly. "She escaped this evening after she perforated two guards and took a walk out of the hospital's grounds. We think she's somewhere in the city, but we don't have any way of tracking her past waiting for her to kill someone and following her that way."

"Which is unacceptable, as you might imagine," Ashley chimed in. "Spider-Man, I - _we _need your help. Frances is a very disturbed young woman. She needs constant care, and this won't help anyone - least of all her. Please, you have to help us." 

* * *

Spider-Man's mind rewound itself to a time he'd been grateful to forget, when Carnage and his disturbed "family" - Carnage himself, Shriek, Demogoblin, Carrion, and the Doppelganger - had taken virtual control of New York and forced it into a state of emergency, and had nearly cost him his sanity, as well. He shuddered, and shook his head slightly to try and wipe away the returning images of blood and gore that Carnage had painted across his mind with every passing moment. He knew that if he didn't, he'd probably puke, so he took a deep breath and composed himself. 

"Sure, Doc," he said, his voice a little shaky for a moment or two, before he was able to settle its quaver. "Whatever I can -" At that moment, his spider-sense screamed at him to move, and without thinking twice about it, he obeyed the overwhelming impulse. At the same time, he grabbed both Ashley and John, and as he did so, the car behind them exploded, flames suddenly erupting from its framework as its fuel was touched off by some unknown energy - but Spidey knew who it was the instant he turned around after setting Ashley and John down. "Wait here," he said emphatically. "I'll deal with this."

"At least let me try and get some help, man," John pleaded, unhooking his belt radio. "I can narrow this down to this area, and keep it here so no one else is endangered." Spidey nodded. 

"Do it," he replied. "But don't go anywhere until I know what's going on, okay?"

John clicked on the radio, but nothing happened. All that he could hear was meaningless static. He hung his head, and slammed his gloved fist into the wall of a nearby building in frustration. "Damn it!" he snapped angrily. "She must be jamming me somehow."

"How could that be?" Dr Kafka asked frantically, her professional detachment rapidly evaporating as the gravity of the situation started to sink in.

"I don't know. Microwaves, maybe - some other kind of radiation... I can't be certain. All I know is, she's holding all the cards and we've got nothing. I don't _believe_ this!"

"Don't panic, John," Spidey replied. "It'll be all right. I promise."

At that moment, like the phoenix, a crowd of men and women seemed to rise from the flames, almost from nowhere, all of them voicing hate, rage and anger towards authority, and towards masked vigilantes, their faces twisted with unnatural emotion and their eyes hollow with seething anger. They were clearly not themselves, and Dr Kafka moaned with fear as they began to move in a mob towards her and the rest of the Ravencroft staff. "Oh, God... she's taken them over," she whispered, almost in awe. "Her powers are increasing. They're all under her control. She must be nearby..."

* * *

In the shadows, a hidden pair of eyes watched the situation with a mixture of amusement and a wish that it could be augmented somehow. _But no,_ he thought. _Better that the Spider be weakened before the trap is sprung._ He chuckled softly, and continued watching the unfolding tableau as the shadows curled around him, concealing him in their comforting cloak. He'd stay here until the commotion had passed, and then he would continue on his way towards the fulfilment of his long struggle. The connection he felt with the Spider would finally be broken, and he would feel free - for the first time in far too long.

_And the Spider will pay for what he's done... oh yes, he will pay..._

* * *

As if to confirm Doctor Kafka's fears, meanwhile, a pair of yellow-tinted beams of energy slammed into the concrete in front of Jameson, Spidey and Dr Kafka, angled from a good way about the street. Spidey looked up to see Shriek standing atop a fire escape, her eyes glowing with her peculiar energy and her body clothed in her familiar skin tight black leotard, her bosom heaving with the excitement of the situation and her face pulled into a deranged little smile.

"Peekaboo, I see you," she cooed happily, as she somersaulted down to street level, and stood a few metres away from the three of them. She waved with the little finger of her right hand at Spider-Man, and fluttered her eyelashes at him, in what might have been an attempt at assuming a seductive attitude. "Hiya, Spidey," she continued huskily. "Good to see you again. I always loved a man in red, you know. Wanna play mommies and daddies?" As if to accentuate her point, she rubbed her stomach. "She's growing all the time, you know. My husband's in jail and I can't raise a family all by myself. I need you, Spider-Man - I need you to be my sugar-daddy." She licked her lips lasciviously, and rubbed her hands over her breasts and thighs like a stripper. "You _know_ I'd pay my way..." Then her face hardened. "Besides, sweetie, you don't have a choice. You don't do that, I'll kill all of these people. I'll kill them if you try and take my baby away from me. Understand, big boy?"

Spidey swallowed, and leaned over to Ashley. "Her _what?"_ he asked, incredulously. 

"She's incubating a strain of the Carrion virus inside her," Ashley whispered back, " but she's treating it like her unborn child. It kept her docile while she was in the Asylum, so we indulged her while we were trying to help her."

_Whoops,_ Spidey thought acidly. Aloud, he said "Okay. Leave this to me, Doc..." Moving towards Shriek, he held his hands out in front of him to show her that he meant no harm. "Shriek?" he asked softly. "Why don't you come back to the Asylum with us. Nobody's going to hurt you -"

_"Liar!"_ Shriek's voice was a scream, and she opened her hands and fired a couple of searing blasts from her fingertips. Spidey had to react quickly in order to shove Ashley and John aside once again. Shriek didn't appear to even notice, still throwing energy blasts in all directions. "They'll take my _baby!"_ she screamed in anguish.

_I gotta put a stop to this before those people get hurt,_ Spidey thought quickly. Raising one hand he found a nub of metal on a fire escape and squirted a thick line of webbing up towards it, and then swinging quickly towards Shriek as she focused her energy on a shop window to her right. He let go of the webbing at the apex of the swing, somersaulted a couple of times to kill his momentum just slightly, then unfurled one leg, extending it to its full length and kicking Shriek right in the stomach. As soon as he'd done it, he realised he'd just made a big mistake, and that was confirmed as Shriek's eyes glowed an even brighter shade of yellow, even as she was doubled over from the impact of the blow, and her hands ignited in yellow fire.

"You killed her!" she screamed. "You took my baby! I'll kill you! _I'll kill you!_" She clasped her hands together and fired a hugely strong blast towards Spidey, one that moved so fast not even Peter's spider-sense could warn him in time. The energy hammered into his body and knocked him to the ground, where he skidded for a little while before coming to rest at the feet of Shriek's horde of mind-controlled minions. 

"Kill him," she said coldly, and before Spidey could get up, he was overwhelmed by a flurry of punches, kicks, and grasping, tearing motions. All he could hear were curses and insults directed towards him, everything else drowned out by the mob's assault. His muscles begged him to fight back, but his body still burned from Shriek's blast. He could do nothing as the mob bore down on him except think of Mary Jane, and how she would be so crushed that he didn't come home.

_ MJ... I'm sorry..._

* * *


	3. Shrieking Mad

**_"Shriek in the Night" _Part 3 **'Shrieking Mad!'

_There are better ways to die..._

That was the only thought that was running through Peter Parker's head as the horde of mesmerized citizens swarmed over him, trying to land as many punches and kicks as they possibly could. Their fists and feet kept clumsily landing on taut muscle and nubs of bone beneath Peter's skin, causing more jarring pain to run up his spine like lightning bolts, slamming into the base of his skull with the pressure of a fire hose, making him dizzy with recycled agony. They tugged at his mask, stretching the fabric but not tearing it - obviously Shriek had no desire to see who was under the Spider-Man costume; she just wanted Spider-Man deader than a doornail, and quickly. 

_Typical supervillain mindset,_ a part of Peter's brain thought with a surprisingly detached and sardonic tone. Through the writhing heap of bodies that weighed down heavily upon him (although not as heavily as they would have done on a normal human being), Spidey could see his captor firing off force blasts and cooking Guardsmen in their armored suits as if they were nothing more than raw meat. He could smell the odor of burning flesh, above even the stench of bitter sweat and anger that filled the air around him and his assailants. It made him want to vomit, but he knew that he could do no such thing while he was pinned down. He'd simply choke on his own puke, and that would be letting Shriek win by default -

-_ and there's no way I'm going to let her do that,_ he thought determinedly. Focusing for a moment, he noticed that as Shriek fired her energy blasts, the weight of his attackers lessened ever so slightly - not by much, but enough for him to notice with his heightened senses. That, he decided, was the key to getting out of this predicament. Struggling with one young woman, whose grip seemed like that of an iron vice while she was under the control of Shriek's deadly powers, he managed to get one webshooter free for a moment, and fired a long, thin strand towards Shriek's leg. It impacted just above her thigh, and Spidey pulled on it as soon as he felt it go taut. Shriek's thigh whipped out from under her, and she collapsed in a tangled heap, cursing and screaming in rage as she did so.

Spidey felt the weight of his assailants lift off him as their trance was broken, and they started to step back from him in a daze. He could see the shock and disbelief in their faces as they realized what they had been doing, and he wished that he could make that go away. Then, the crowd saw the corpses of the dead Guardsmen and Shriek, who was just rising to her feet, her eyes glowing with yellow-hued energy, and they began to run, yelling cautions to each other or just concentrating on escaping with their lives. 

"Aww," Shriek cooed, "don't you pretty babies wanna play no more? Too bad... Mommy wanted to play with you _so_ much... guess I'll have to just _punish_ you instead." Without another word, she slammed her hands together and let a huge blast of energy loose, its searing waves flaring out from her body and enveloping the crowd before they could even take another step away from her. Shriek laughed and writhed with pleasure as their bodies were obliterated by the golden light, their flesh turned to ash even more easily than the Guardsmen's bodies had been. Shriek howled ecstatically as the blast died down, and licked her lips lasciviously, turning her gaze back towards Spider-Man. She sauntered towards her intended prey, swinging her hips and putting her index finger to her lips coyly, like a psychotic version of Shirley Temple. "Needed some salt," she whispered huskily, "but that was pretty _tasty_. Now... I want me some Spider-Man as dessert. Whatcha say, honey?"

"Go back," Spider-Man wheezed, his lungs straining to draw breath, "to Hell."

"Oooh," Shriek purred. "Flattery will get you _everywhere..._ if you catch my drift."

"Shut up!" Spidey yelled, white-hot rage burning at the corners of his vision and deep within his soul. "Murderer!" Without thinking, he pulled on the webline that was still clutched in his hand, and swung Shriek into a wall. She hit the bricks hard, and fell to the ground limply, her body unmoving as she lay on the cold concrete. 

Spidey blinked. _Oh, God. What did I just do?_ He leapt quickly over to where Shriek lay, his heart pounding. He knew that his temper could get the better of him at times - he only had to recall what had happened after Gwen had died to see that; he'd been ready to kill Norman Osborn, and probably would have done if he hadn't pulled back at the last instant - but he didn't want the blood of a person - _any_ person - on his hands. Cautiously, he crept up to where Shriek's body was lying motionless. Kneeling close to her, he pulled up his mask so that his mouth and nose were uncovered, in case he needed to give her CPR. Moving closer to her, he checked her pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a steady beat. 

Still, she did look fairly unconscious, and Peter thought he'd better get her back to Ravencroft so that the doctors there could take a look at her. He slipped his arms underneath her, and was just about to lift her up when her eyes flicked open.

"Boo," she said with a deranged cackle of a laugh. Peter's heart seemed to leap out of his chest, and he staggered backwards in shock - at which point, Shriek lashed out with a hard kick to his jaw. It left the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, snapped his head to one side and left him dazed, open for a hard punch to the solar plexus. As Peter moved backwards again (if only to absorb the shock of the blow's impact, rather than to register any real damage), Shriek seized her opportunity and began to make her escape. "You'll never take my baby!" she snarled, all her previous childish seductiveness disappearing as fast as it had appeared. "Never! You'll have to kill me first!"

Suddenly, a shining circular object (which Spidey could just make out as the lid of a garbage can) hurtled out of the shadows of a nearby alleyway and hit Shriek square in the back of the head, bouncing off her skull with a hefty thudding sound. Dazed and a little confused, Spidey couldn't see exactly who had thrown it, but since his spider-sense hadn't been set off, he supposed he ought not to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Shriek snarled, her stance a little wobbly and unbalanced. "That... wasn't very nice," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You shouldn't hit your Mommy, baby. Now I have to punish you, too..."

* * *

Behind a battered, but still basically functional Ravencroft van, Ashley Kafka and John Jameson listened to the noise and fury of the battle between Spider-Man and Shriek with bated breath. 

"I gotta do something," John whispered in a frustrated tone. "I can't just sit here..." Dr. Kafka shook her head, dejectedly. 

"Me neither, John, but we're still no match for that girl without any Guardsman armor -"

"What the hell's that got to do with anything?" John retorted sharply, his breathing harsh and ragged in his throat. "It didn't do much good for those poor guys she just killed, did it?"

Dr. Kafka paled for a moment, and John could clearly see that she was shaken and afraid - but as if he wasn't. He reached out with one hand and she gripped it tightly, her knuckles whitening over the dark blue of his thick gloves.

"It'll be okay," he whispered, trying to sound as strong as he possibly could. "I promise."

"We're going to need more than your promises, John," Ashley replied, reaching into a jacket pocket with her free hand and dialing a number hurriedly. After a few rings, the other end of the line opened up and Dr. Kafka almost shouted into her handset "Do you have the Carrion vaccine?" An anonymous voice assured that "We have the vaccine, Doctor. It ought to be ready by the time you get Shriek back to Ravencroft." 

_Thank God for that,_ Ashley thought. _She'll finally be free of that death sentence._ Pausing, she wondered what that might mean. She hoped the outcome would be positive.

She prayed that it would be positive.

Gripping the handset even more tightly, she pressed the "end call" button and slipped it back into her jacket hurriedly.

"So what'd they tell you?" John said breathlessly.

"She'll be cured within the next few hours," Ashley replied. "We can take her back to Ravencroft for treatment." 

John shook his head. "Damn." Then, reaching into a half-destroyed medical bag, he fished out a couple of tranquilizer guns, which were fully loaded with sedative darts. "Care for a duck shoot?"

"Always, John," Ashley replied, with a wan smile. John grinned at her, and then stood up from behind his cover.

"Hey, freakshow!" he yelled, causing Shriek to begin turning towards the sound of his voice, away from Spider-Man. Before she could fire off any energy blasts, however, both he and Dr. Kafka had unloaded at least three darts into her body. Each one injected a potent, individually-tailored cocktail of drugs into her system, which overloaded her accelerated metabolism and caused her to slump to the ground, motionless.

* * *

Spidey watched, stunned, as John Jameson and Ashley Kafka proceeded to save his red and blue butt. He supposed he ought to thank them, but he knew that if the story of this night got out, he'd be a laughing stock in the long-underwear community.

_And coming from a guy who hangs out with guys who have little wings on the side of their heads and look like a pile of orange pebbles, that's saying a lot..._ He shrugged. At least it was better than getting his behind kicked by a psycho mother-wannabe. "Uh... thanks, Doc - John," he said uncertainly.

"No problem, Webslinger," John replied, giving him a mock salute and then pointing to Shriek's unmoving form. "Say... you wouldn't mind, you know, stopping her from getting up?"

"Sure." Spider-Man pointed his web-shooters towards Shriek's body and sprayed a thin but inflexible coating of webbing all over her body, fastening her firmly to the ground and rendering her immobile. "That ought to hold her until we can get her back to your place."

"Let's hope so," Dr. Kafka replied. "I don't want to go through a repeat of this. At least not tonight." Spider-Man snorted with relieved laughter.

"Doc, whenever I doubt you have a sense of humor, you always end up surprising me." He shrugged. "But I know what you mean - hopefully this ought to teach your guys a few lessons about how to handle that girl."

"I hope so," John said, all traces of levity leeched from his tone.

"Me too, John," Spidey said sadly. "Me too."

* * *

Ravencroft was cold. It was always cold, but Dr. Kafka thought it was more noticeable tonight, of all nights. In the medical room of the asylum, Shriek was tied down to a cot with leather straps, her hands secured and placed within steel manacles that covered them right up to the ends of her slender fingers. Dr. Kafka wasn't taking any more chances with her patient than she had already - bitter experience had taught her that Shriek punished risk-taking with blood. "The vaccine's ready, Doctor," an aide said, handing Dr. Kafka a syringe filled with a bright green liquid. "Shriek ought to respond to this fairly quickly - we made it so that it interacted with her unique physiology - but you ought to be prepared for any unforeseen side-effects."

"Yes, thank you, Patterson," Dr. Kafka said through clenched teeth. "I'll bear that in mind." Considering how raw her nerves had become over the last few hours, she was surprised she didn't do a lot worse to him, but she managed to keep her cool long enough to jab the syringe right into Shriek's milky-white arm and depress the plunger, emptying its contents into her bloodstream. Almost immediately, Dr. Kafka could see the vaccine working its way through her patient's body - the vivid green hue of the vaccine acted like a signpost to where it was headed. The patient began to thrash in her restraints, her hands clenching and unclenching in their manacles, and her teeth grinding in pain.

"Gone," she moaned plaintively, the stress enough to wake her from her unconscious state. "She's gone..."

"Yes, Frances, I'm afraid so," Dr. Kafka replied softly, deciding to play along, just this once, with Shriek's confused delusions. Shriek saw the stationary form of Spider-Man stood just off to one side of the treatment room and her eyes began to glow with a murderous yellow-hued glare.

"_You_ did it," she hissed. "_You_ killed her!"

Spider-Man did nothing, but step closer towards Dr. Kafka and whisper "I shouldn't have come here... I'm sorry, Ashley."

"Nonsense, Spider-Man," Dr. Kafka said quietly. Then, more loudly, she addressed Shriek "Spider-Man did nothing to your baby; she just... slipped away. We tried to save her, but there was nothing we could do."

_"Liar!"_ Shriek howled hopelessly. "You _killed_ her!"

"She died of natural causes, Frances... we tried to save her, but there was nothing we could do." Turning back towards Spider-Man, she nodded. "Perhaps you ought to go. Frances is usually much more docile without a source of stress to upset her." 

Spider-Man nodded and turned to leave the treatment room, but not before John Jameson took hold of his arm and said quietly "Thanks for the help, Webhead - couldn't have done it without you." He grinned wanly. "Let's just hope none of this gets out to the press, huh?"

"Yeah, might as well use up our luck quota wishing for that, John. We sure didn't get much else tonight." Spider-Man gripped John's outstretched hand in friendship and then left the room feeling dejected, sore, and miserable.

* * *

He arrived home in Forest Hills at around six a.m., his body screaming out for a hot bath and some decent sleep. MJ was already up, doing her morning regimen of kung fu stretches and tai chi movements. "Hey, tiger," she said as he stumbled into their kitchen, his motion sluggish and distracted. "Long time no see." Peter tried to smile, but the resultant look was weak and without conviction. MJ realized something was wrong then, and moved closer to him to try and see what that something was. "You okay?" she asked rhetorically.

"No," Peter said in a somewhat redundant fashion. "Shriek killed a lot of people last night, and I couldn't stop her."

"But you helped get her back where she belongs, Peter - you have to look at it that way -"

"Do I?" Peter snapped angrily. Seeing MJ's hurt expression, he softened his voice and reached out with his hands to enfold her in his arms. "I don't want those deaths on my conscience. I hate that I couldn't save them. All my strength and speed and power, and I couldn't even do that."

MJ sighed. "Oh, Peter... I'm not going to win a fight against the Parker conscience, am I?" She stroked his face and kissed him gently on the lips. "Go to bed. Sleep a little. You'll feel better once you've had a few hours' rest, I promise." She gave him a naughty smile and hugged him a little tighter as she did so. "I might even bring you breakfast in bed if you're real lucky."

Peter brightened a little, his haggard, unshaven features looking a little less haunted for a second or two. "Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

Eleven a.m. arrived a lot quicker than Peter might have asked for, but five hours' of sleep was better than none, and, as she had promised, MJ did bring him breakfast in bed - a sumptuous repast of fruit, toast and orange juice that really did make him feel better. It still didn't ease the sting of the previous night completely, but it lifted his spirits just enough for him to be able to smile properly, and not feel like a fraud for doing so. After dressing and grabbing his camera, he padded downstairs, where MJ was sitting in front of the TV with her sketchpad and pencils, drawing a pair of running springbok from the documentary that was currently showing on the Discovery Channel.

"Hey, honey," MJ said. "How do you feel?"

"Not as good as I ought to, but I'm okay," Peter replied. "I'll be fine in a few hours, when I've got some Bugle coffee inside me." He tried to grin then, but he only managed a small half-hearted smile. MJ's face fell and she got up off the sofa, and embraced her husband gently.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry..." she said quietly. "You don't have to go out today if you don't want to. I'll call the Bugle for you and tell them you're sick -"

Peter shook his head. "No, MJ - don't do that. I have to get out there and... _do_ things... or I'm going to go nuts cooped up here."

"If you're sure," MJ said, grasping his shoulders and holding his gaze earnestly for a moment. "Take care, Peter. I love you."

"I love you too, MJ," Peter told her, kissing her softly on the lips. "Thank you for breakfast." He winked at her, and she smiled, finally. 

"My pleasure. See you later, Peter."

* * *

_I sure do love avoiding rush hour traffic,_ Peter thought as he swung over the crowded concrete canyons of Manhattan, which seethed with yellow cabs and various other types of vehicles, as well as thousands of New Yorkers going about their daily business. _Makes me wonder how I'd have managed without Spider-Powers..._ Somersaulting over the top edge of the _Daily Bugle_'s office building, he switched to his civilian clothes and snuck down the service stairway towards the _Bugle_'s newsroom, where he was sure he'd find himself a decent assignment - or at the very least, something that would buy him lunch for the next couple of days. 

As soon as he entered the bustling newsroom, however, he saw Robbie waving to him from across the way, a copy of the _Daily Globe_ in his weathered hand. "You know anything about this, Peter?" Robbie said. "Did Spider-Man tell you anything about this?"

"Tell me about what?" Peter was genuinely puzzled by what Robbie was saying, and it wasn't until Robbie showed him the headline on the _Globe_'s front page that Peter realized what Robbie meant. The headline read, in stark black lettering: "SHRIEK TERRORIZES CITY DURING NIGHT-TIME RAMPAGE: SPIDER-MAN INVOLVED". That, however, wasn't the worst part of the page. The worst part of it was the by-line. The story was being reported by an Edward Brock.

_Brock's back?_ he thought worriedly._ But... how'd he manage to get this story published in the Globe? I thought they'd never have hired him back after what he did the last time he got them an "exclusive" - what must he have done to change their minds?_

"Don't bother Jonah, today, Peter," Robbie said, snapping him out of his worried thoughts. "He's expecting a visit from Marla's relatives, and he's got his hands full trying to avoid them." He smiled, his warm brown eyes twinkling. "You should have seen him earlier - he was begging people to take his phone calls for him, just in case it was his mother-in-law."

"That _is_ funny," Peter admitted. "She must be a real scary woman to have Jonah shaking in his boots."

"I've never met her," Robbie replied, "but from what Jonah tells me, she's like a thousand ton weight hitting you right in the back of the head. Not something you want to experience too often, right?" 

"Sounds like it," Peter replied. "Look, Robbie, if I've got to avoid Jonah right now, how about I come back later when he's cooled off a little?" _It'll give me a chance to think a bit about what I'm going to do about Brock,_ he thought hopefully.

"Good idea, Peter," Robbie said, after thinking about Peter's suggestion for a moment or two. "Give Jonah a couple of hours and he'll only be a little bit grouchy. See you then, son." He clapped Peter on the shoulder and moved across to the other side of the newsroom to ask a copy boy for a favor. Peter took the opportunity to leave the crowded room and take the stairs back up to the roof, where he changed quickly into his costume, and prepared to swing off the roof once again.

_Where are you, Brock? _he thought, uneasily. 

Suddenly, the day seemed a lot colder...

* * *

**THE END**


End file.
